Learning through the Library

From Heroes to Heroines

Like many readers of my generation, my first encounters with Greek mythology were through the deeds of men.

I grew up enthralled by the adventures of Theseus, Jason, Hercules, Perseus, Achilles and Hector. These were stories of daring quests, impossible challenges, glorious victories and legendary battles. They were tales of courage and strength, and I gloried in their heroics. Around them stood a supporting cast of women I thought I knew well. Circe was the witch. Penelope was the patient wife. Medusa was the monster. Hera was the jealous goddess whose wrath was to be feared.

Recently, after watching the latest release of The Odyssey, I found myself revisiting those childhood memories. The film reignited a lifelong fascination with Greek mythology and, like any devoted reader, I immediately reached for Stephen Fry’s Troy and Odyssey. I was ready to immerse myself once again in the familiar stories of heroes and monsters, gods and mortals.

Then a friend and former colleague, Lisa, shared an article from Readings, Feminist Retellings for Fans of The Odyssey. What happened next can only be described as falling down the proverbial rabbit hole.

The article prompted a question that now seems embarrassingly obvious: whose voices had been missing from the stories I thought I knew so well?

The answer, of course, was women’s.

For centuries, the Greek myths that have shaped Western storytelling have largely been told through a male lens. Men embarked on quests, fought wars, outwitted monsters and achieved glory. Women often occupied narrower roles. They were mothers, wives, temptresses, victims or villains. Their stories existed to support the journeys of men.

Once I recognised this, I could not stop reading.

Over the past month I have immersed myself in a remarkable collection of feminist retellings. Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad gave voice to Penelope, allowing her to tell her own story rather than simply waiting silently for Odysseus’ return. Madeline Miller’s Circe transformed the feared sorceress into a complex, intelligent and resilient woman searching for autonomy in a world dominated by gods and men. Clytemnestra by Constanza Casati challenged her murderer title for grief-stricken mother. Natalie Haynes’ A Thousand Ships revealed the Trojan War through the experiences of the women left behind, enslaved or silenced by conflict.

Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls and The Women of Troy were perhaps the most confronting. These novels force readers to see the Trojan War not through the eyes of Achilles or Agamemnon, but through the women treated as spoils of war. The glory celebrated in traditional tellings becomes far more uncomfortable when viewed from the perspective of those who paid its true cost.

From there I moved on to Ayana Gray’s I, Medusa, Jennifer Saint’s Ariadne and Elektra, and currently Daughters of Sparta waits patiently on my bedside table.

Across all of these books, despite their differences in style and interpretation, a common thread emerges.

Women paid for male hubris.

Men sought glory, and women bore the consequences.

Odysseus’ cleverness may have won the war, but Penelope endured decades of uncertainty and isolation. Paris pursued desire, and Troy’s women suffered slavery and loss. Heroes chased immortality through fame, while mothers buried children, daughters were sacrificed, wives were abandoned and innocent women became collateral damage in the pursuit of honour.

Even Medusa, long remembered as a monster, has been reconsidered by contemporary authors. Modern retellings ask us to question who benefits when women are turned into villains and whose perspectives are preserved in the stories we inherit.

What has fascinated me most is not that these authors are rewriting mythology. Rather, they are restoring missing perspectives. The events themselves often remain unchanged. Troy still burns. Odysseus still journeys home. Ancient prophecies still unfold. Yet by shifting the narrative lens, the meaning of the story changes dramatically.

The heroes become more human.

The villains become more complex.

And the women, often relegated to the margins, become fully realised characters whose experiences matter.

As a reader, this has been both exhilarating and unsettling. Exhilarating because these novels breathe fresh life into stories thousands of years old. Unsettling because they force us to confront how easily we accept a single version of events when it is the only version we have been given.

Perhaps that is why these retellings resonate so strongly today. They remind us that every story depends on who is telling it. History, mythology and literature are not simply collections of facts or events. They are narratives shaped by perspective.

A month ago, I revisited Greek mythology seeking nostalgia. I wanted to relive the adventures of the heroes I had loved since childhood.

Instead, I discovered something far richer.

I found the women.

And in doing so, I realised that some of the most compelling stories from ancient Greece were never about the heroes at all. They were about the women who endured, resisted, survived and, finally, are being allowed to speak.

Sharing passions is a good thing!

One of the greatest strengths of teacher librarians is that we are readers first.

We spend so much time advocating for reading that we sometimes forget one of the most powerful tools we possess: our own enthusiasm. Students can tell when we genuinely love a book, a genre or a topic. More importantly, so can staff.

Recently, I watched a film adaptation of The Odyssey. As the credits rolled, I found myself reflecting on just how many remarkable stories have emerged from the worlds of myth and legend. Greek mythology has inspired countless books, films and retellings, yet it remains as captivating today as it was thousands of years ago.

Rather than simply adding a few mythology-themed books to a display, I decided to lean into that excitement. The result was a library display celebrating myths, legends and epic journeys. Fiction and non-fiction texts stood side by side, allowing students to move between ancient stories, historical investigations, literary retellings and modern adaptations. To extend engagement, we paired the display with lunchtime challenges and activities that invited students to test their mythological knowledge and explore the stories further.

Students enjoyed the display, borrowed books and enthusiastically participated in the activities. But what surprised me most was the reaction from staff.

Teachers who stopped to look at the display rarely walked away after a quick glance. Instead, they stayed for conversations. Conversations about Troy. Conversations about Odysseus. Conversations about which adaptation best captured the spirit of the original tales.

One colleague passionately argued that Stephen Fry’s retellings brought Greek mythology to life more effectively than Homer for modern readers. Another maintained that Wolfgang Petersen’s 2004 film Troy remains the definitive cinematic adaptation, while others debated the merits of newer interpretations. Before long, the display had become a catalyst for rich discussion, not just about mythological stories, but about storytelling itself.

These moments reminded me that library displays do more than promote books. They create opportunities for connection.

As teacher librarians, we are often encouraged to stay objective when creating collections and displays. While balance and diversity remain essential, there is also value in sharing the things that genuinely excite us. When we display our own curiosity and enthusiasm, we invite others to do the same. Conversations become more authentic because they emerge from genuine interest rather than obligation.

Our passions can also help us create meaningful pathways into the collection. A film, television series, sporting event, podcast, video game or cultural phenomenon can act as a doorway to reading. Popular culture provides familiar entry points, while the library offers opportunities to explore ideas in greater depth. Students may arrive because they recognise a movie title, but they leave having discovered a novel, a non-fiction text or a whole new genre.

This experience reinforced an important lesson for me: successful displays are not always the most elaborate or visually impressive. Often, they are the displays connected to something we genuinely care about. Enthusiasm is contagious. When we share our interests with confidence, we create spaces where conversations flourish, curiosity grows and reading becomes a shared experience.

Sometimes the most effective readers’ advisory tool is simply being willing to say, “I loved this story, and I think you might too.”

Golden tickets – Connecting Curriculum and Curiosity.

One of the great joys of working in a school library is watching a story spill beyond the pages of a book and into the wider learning experiences of students. This week, our library celebrated Roald Dahl Week, marking both Roald Dahl Day and the fact that our Year 7 students have recently completed Boy as their class novel.

I have written previously about the enduring appeal of Roald Dahl and the remarkable ways his stories connect with young readers. What continues to fascinate me is that, decades after publication, his books still possess the power to spark curiosity, laughter, discussion and further reading. While our Year 7 students had already explored Dahl’s life through Boy, this celebratory week provided an opportunity to approach his work from a different angle. Rather than analysing a text for assessment, students were invited to simply enjoy the worlds, characters and imagination that have made Dahl such a significant figure in children’s literature.

And enjoy it they did.

The week was filled with colourful book displays, activities and conversations. My library team embraced the occasion with enthusiasm. We welcomed a flotilla of Matildas, spotted two Fantastic Mr Fox(es), and I returned as my alter ego, Miss Trunchbull. The laughter and excitement generated by these simple acts of participation reminded me that reading cultures are built not only through books, but through shared experiences and visible enthusiasm from the adults around us.

One of the highlights of the past two weeks was our Golden Ticket promotion. Any student who borrowed a book were entered into a draw to win a Roald Dahl cinematic experience at lunchtime (popcorn included). What began as a simple reading incentive quickly became a source of excitement. The response from our primary boys was particularly heartening. Many still remembered reading Matilda as their class novel and eagerly revisited Dahl’s work, often recommending favourite titles to friends.

Watching students connect with an author after studying a text reminded me that the impact of classroom literature can extend far beyond assessment. When schools create opportunities for students to revisit and celebrate stories they have loved, reading becomes part of their identity rather than simply another curriculum requirement. This observation is supported by research that suggests school library displays and reading promotions increase students’ engagement with books and improve resource discovery, helping young people connect with texts they may not have otherwise chosen (Rodgers, 2018).

What was most pleasing, however, was what happened beyond the costumes, displays and celebrations. Students began borrowing other Roald Dahl novels. They sought out books with similar humour and adventure. Some investigated Dahl’s life further, while others became curious about the Second World War and the fighter pilots that influenced his writing. A class novel had become a springboard into recreational reading, historical inquiry and independent learning.

This is where school libraries occupy a unique space within a school. We sit at the intersection of curriculum and curiosity. While classroom learning provides the foundation, libraries help students make connections, pursue interests and explore questions that arise from their reading. A well-timed display, a themed celebration or a casual book recommendation can transform a curriculum text from a completed assessment into the beginning of a much larger learning journey.

Research has consistently shown that school libraries contribute to student learning when they connect learners with relevant resources, foster inquiry and encourage engagement beyond the classroom (Lance & Kachel, 2018). What might appear to be a simple book display is often something much more significant. Displays invite exploration, facilitate resource discovery and create opportunities for students to make meaningful connections between what they learn in the classroom and the wider world. In this way, library initiatives support curriculum outcomes while also nurturing curiosity and independent learning.

Roald Dahl Week was never simply about dressing up. It was about helping students see that books do not exist in isolation. Stories connect to history, culture, creativity and personal interests. They open doors to new questions and new discoveries. The enduring popularity of Matilda, the enthusiasm generated by a Golden Ticket, and the curiosity sparked by Boy all point to the same conclusion: literature remains one of the most powerful vehicles for learning.

Increasingly, research suggests that reading promotion initiatives contribute not only to academic growth but also to students’ social and emotional development (Xia, 2025). When young people encounter compelling stories, they develop empathy, broaden their perspectives and gain insight into both themselves and others. These outcomes may be difficult to measure, but they remain fundamental to education.

When libraries create opportunities for students to engage with literature in joyful and authentic ways, we support curriculum outcomes while also fostering reader identity, curiosity and a lifelong love of learning.

And surely that is one of the most important things a school library can do.

References

Lance, K. C., & Kachel, D. E. (2018). Why school librarians matter: What years of research tell us. Phi Delta Kappan, 99(7), 15–20.

Rodgers, L. (2018, July 13). Circulation surge: Want your books to fly off the shelves? Try these ideas. School Library Journal. Circulation surge

Xia, L. (2025). Research on reading promotion strategies for primary and secondary school students under the “Double Reduction” policy: A dual perspective based on cognitive development and social-emotional learning. International Journal of New Developments in Education, 7(10), 37–45.

Book review: Circe

I first read Circe when it was released back in 2019, but I am revisiting it years later, armed with a deepening obsession with Greek mythology (and after tumbling headlong down countless mythological rabbit holes). I found myself reading it through an entirely different lens. Previously, the novel read like a tragedy, a demigod, exiled for an unasked-for superpower and unrequited love, now reads as a meditation on agency, power and survival. Miller asks readers to reconsider whose stories have been told, whose voices have been silenced, and what happens when a woman refuses to accept the narrative written for her by others.

Of the many mythology retellings currently flooding bookshelves, Circe remains one of the standouts. It is, at its heart, one of the finest stories of a woman reclaiming her power and redefining her place in the world. Circe’s triumph is not found in conquest or revenge, but in her refusal to be constrained by the expectations of gods, men or fate itself. The novel’s enduring appeal lies in this journey of self-determination and redemption. Beautifully written, fiercely intelligent and deeply human, Circe is more than a story about gods and monsters. It is a story about finding one’s voice, claiming one’s identity and forging a future on one’s own terms.

Dolly Parton, School Libraries and the Reading Gap

In the days following Dolly Parton’s death, much of the media attention focused on her extraordinary music career. Yet among the tributes was repeated recognition of something else: her commitment to putting books into the hands of children.

Through Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library, millions of free books have been distributed to children around the world. For many commentators, this initiative represented one of her most significant philanthropic achievements. While others celebrated her songs, educators, librarians and literacy advocates celebrated her understanding of a simple truth: access to books matters.

Recent research suggests she was right.

Galea et al. (2026), examining the impact of Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library across 86,000 families worldwide, found measurable improvements in children’s emergent literacy skills after receiving books through the program. Remarkably, benefits were evident after children received as few as ten books. The researchers also calculated that in Australia every $100 invested in the program generates approximately $990 in social and economic returns through future earnings and welfare savings.

This is almost a ten-fold benefit … At a time when educators continue to grapple with falling literacy outcomes, these findings feel particularly significant.

Shortly after reading about the impact of the Imagination Library, I found myself reflecting on Helen Adam’s recent article, NAPLAN: We know how to close the reading gap. We must fund it now. Adam argues that while explicit instruction remains essential, it has never been the only solution to literacy challenges. After decades of literacy reforms, interventions and increasingly sophisticated approaches to reading instruction, achievement gaps continue to widen, particularly for disadvantaged students.

Few would argue against the importance of explicit instruction. Children need systematic teaching in phonics, fluency, vocabulary and comprehension. The evidence is overwhelming. Learning to read is not something most children simply absorb through exposure alone.

However, the more I reflected on both Adam’s article and the work of the Imagination Library, the more I was reminded that teaching children how to read is only part of the challenge.

The question we often overlook is whether children have enough to read once we have taught them.

Adam identifies two consistently underfunded aspects of children’s literacy environments. The first is genuine opportunity to read. Books in the home. School libraries. Access to diverse collections. Time during the school day to read for pleasure. These factors sit alongside quality instruction, not instead of it.

This is where school libraries become central to any meaningful conversation about whole-school literacy.

Libraries are often viewed as an enhancement to literacy programs rather than essential literacy infrastructure. Yet the evidence increasingly suggests otherwise. If Dolly Parton’s work demonstrates anything, it is that access to books is not a luxury. It is a prerequisite for literacy development.

Reading proficiency grows through reading.

Students who have regular access to books are more likely to practise the skills they have been taught. They encounter new vocabulary. They build background knowledge. They develop fluency. Most importantly, they begin to see reading as something they choose to do rather than something done to them.

The research underpinning reading for pleasure reinforces this point. Cremin and Scholes’ (2024) international review found that children who read for pleasure generally demonstrate stronger outcomes in vocabulary, spelling, reading comprehension and even mathematics, alongside more positive attitudes towards reading. Significantly, time spent reading recreationally is associated with, and predictive of, enriched vocabularies. This matters because vocabulary remains one of the strongest predictors of reading comprehension and long-term academic success.

For schools seeking to improve literacy outcomes, the implications are profound. Whole-school literacy cannot be reduced solely to instructional approaches. Instruction teaches students how to read. Libraries create the conditions that allow those skills to grow.

Adam’s second point is equally important. Children need to see themselves reflected in what they read. Reading is not only about decoding words on a page. It is also about identity, belonging and connection. Students engage most deeply when they encounter books that reflect their experiences, interests, cultures and aspirations.

Again, this is where school libraries play a critical role.

Teacher librarians curate collections that serve as both mirrors and windows. We help students find stories that affirm who they are while also introducing them to new perspectives and experiences. Through collection development, reader advisory programs, author visits, book clubs and reading promotions, libraries help students develop not only literacy skills but reader identities.

As a profession, we have long understood something that Dolly Parton seemed to understand instinctively. Access changes outcomes.

A child who has books is more likely to become a reader. A child who becomes a reader is more likely to develop the vocabulary, knowledge and comprehension that underpin academic success. A child who can find themselves in a book is more likely to see reading as meaningful.

This is why conversations about literacy must move beyond instruction alone.

Explicit teaching remains critical. But if we genuinely want to close reading gaps, we must also invest in the wider conditions that support literacy success: well-resourced school libraries, qualified teacher librarians, diverse collections and opportunities for students to read for pleasure every day.

Perhaps Dolly Parton’s greatest educational legacy was not simply giving books away. It was reminding us that sometimes the most powerful literacy intervention is ensuring that a child has a book in their hands.

References

Adam, H. (2026, August 5). NAPLAN: We know how to close the reading gap. We must fund it now. EduResearch Matters. View article [blog.aare.edu.au]

Cremin, T., & Scholes, L. (2024). Reading for pleasure: Scrutinising the evidence base – benefits, tensions and recommendations. Language and Education, 38(4), 353-372. https://doi.org/10.1080/09500782.2024.2324948

Galea, C., Duursma, E., Petocz, P., McArthur, G., Robidoux, S., Beyersmann, E., & Noble, C. (2026). The impact of shared book reading on children’s emergent literacy skills: A worldwide study of Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library. Early Child Development and Care, 196(7-8), 504-522. https://doi.org/10.1080/03004430.2026.2678212

Noble, C., Cameron-Faulkner, T., Jessop, A., Coates, A., Sawyer, H., Taylor-Ims, R., & Rowland, C. (2020). The impact of interactive shared book reading on children’s language skills: A randomised controlled trial. Journal of Speech, Language, and Hearing Research, 63(6), 1878-1897.

Book review: The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood.

Still firmly entrenched in my Greek mythology phase, Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad stands out among the many retellings I have read. This brilliant novella blends prose and poetry to create a story that is as provocative as it is entertaining, reminding readers how much of history and mythology exists in the gaps, silences and omissions. Penelope has long been cast as mother, matron and martyr, defined by her loyalty to Odysseus, yet Atwood challenges readers to look beyond the familiar narrative and question who benefits when women’s stories are reduced to waiting and suffering.

What makes this retelling so powerful is its relevance to modern womanhood. Atwood draws clear parallels between Penelope’s task of keeping the home fires burning while her husband is away and the reality faced by many women today, who are expected to manage households, build careers, carry emotional labour and often navigate the consequences of male choices. The irony is impossible to miss: while Odysseus earns glory through war and adventure, Penelope shoulders the responsibility of holding an entire kingdom together. Atwood’s prose continually invites readers to connect these ancient expectations with contemporary conversations about gender, responsibility and loneliness.

Equally compelling is Atwood’s treatment of the twelve maidservants executed by Odysseus upon his return. Traditionally little more than a footnote in The Odyssey, Atwood gives these young women a voice and exposes the brutality of their deaths. They are condemned not because of proven guilt, but because of rumour, perception and the narratives imposed upon them by others. Here, Atwood’s recurring theme rings loudest: women so often pay the price for the actions, decisions and failings of men. Their chorus haunts the novella and transforms what might have been a clever retelling into something far more confronting and memorable.

There is also a wry humour running through the novel. Modern readers cannot help but note that if a husband disappeared for twenty years today, most legal systems would simply declare him dead rather than celebrate his prolonged absence as heroic adventure. Yet beneath the humour lies a serious examination of whose stories survive, whose voices are heard and who bears the burden when legends are created.

Intelligent, sharp and deeply thought-provoking, The Penelopiad is one of the finest Greek mythology retellings I have encountered. Atwood demonstrates that the most interesting stories are often found not in the heroic deeds themselves, but in the people left behind to live with their consequences. Recommended for older teens and adults who enjoy mythology, feminist literature and stories that challenge long-held assumptions.

Book review: Ariadne by Jennifer Saint

Ariadne continues my Greek mythology phase, but unfortunately it never quite reaches the heights of Clytemnestra. While Ariadne lends her name to the title, she often feels more like a passenger in the story, with her sister Phaedra emerging as the far more compelling and complex character. At times, it feels as though the novel should have been named after Phaedra instead.

That said, the book offers an engaging retelling of the myths surrounding Theseus and the Minotaur. Reading it transported me back to my own visit to Knossos in Crete, wandering through the ruins of the Minoan palace with its maze-like rooms and winding passageways. Standing there years ago, it was easy to imagine how stories of a labyrinth and a monster at its heart might have emerged.

Whilst mythology offers various explanations for why Theseus abandoned Ariadne on Naxos, Jennifer Saint absolutely captures the hero’s arrogance. One can almost see it radiating from the page. This is a man who seems convinced of his own greatness, perhaps viewing himself as the human successor to Hercules, destined for glory and admiration. Saint’s portrayal strips away much of the traditional heroic sheen and reveals a figure whose pride and self-importance often overshadow the people around him.

More importantly, Ariadne continues a theme that Saint explores throughout her mythological retellings: women paying the price for men’s actions. Again and again, Greek mythology tells stories in which male pride, ambition and hubris set tragedy in motion, while women bear the consequences. Just as Medusa is transformed into a Gorgon by Artemis after Poseidon’s violation… or as Scylla monstrous fate because of Glaucus, Ariadne ultimately becomes collateral damage in Dionysus’s war against Argos. Throughout the novel, Saint reminds readers that the destruction wrought by men rarely falls upon men alone. Instead, it is often women who suffer, endure and die because of decisions they never made.

Greek mythology is full of stories where male pride is paid for in female blood. Just ask Hera. Time and again she is forced to bear the consequences of Zeus’s infidelities, directing her wrath not at the god responsible but at the mortal women and children caught in his wake. Saint highlights this recurring pattern across the myths, encouraging readers to look beyond the celebrated deeds of heroes and gods to the women left to clean up the devastation they create.

While Ariadne did not captivate me as completely as Clytemnestra, it remains an enjoyable read for anyone interested in Greek mythology and fresh perspectives on familiar legends. My main takeaway is that Ariadne herself never feels quite as fully realised as her sister Phaedra. However, I will say that Saint succeeds in shining a light on the women who stand in the shadows of heroes and gods, reminding us that their stories deserve to be heard as well.

Book review: Clytemnestra by Constanza Casati.

Clytemnestra is a brilliant retelling of Greek mythology that reclaims one of the most maligned women in Homer’s world. History remembers Clytemnestra as the murderous wife who killed Agamemnon on his return from Troy, yet that version conveniently overlooks the sacrifice of their daughter, Iphigenia, and the grief and rage that followed. Costanza Casati transforms a supposedly minor character into a compelling, complex heroine who must fight for power, agency, and survival in a society shaped and controlled by men. Richly written and emotionally charged, this is a story of loss, revenge, resilience, and the cost of being a woman who refuses to remain silent.

While not a book for children, Clytemnestra is highly recommended for older teens and adults interested in mythology, historical fiction, and strong female protagonists. The novel contains graphic depictions of violence, both domestic and political, reflecting the brutal realities of the ancient world. Rather than glorifying this violence, Casati uses it to explore the devastating consequences of power, ambition, and vengeance. One of the finest mythological retellings I have read.

A Sound of Storytelling

As part of our Book Week celebrations and this year’s CBCA theme, A Symphony of Stories, students at my school were treated to a memorable author event, A Sound of Storytelling. The event brought together two remarkable Australian authors, Annaleise Byrd and Carla Salmon, who shared their experiences of creativity, imagination, and the transformative power of storytelling.

The idea of a symphony is a fitting metaphor for stories. Just as every instrument contributes its own unique voice to an orchestra, every story offers a different perspective, experience, and adventure. Author visits provide students with the opportunity to hear directly from the creators behind the books they read, helping them understand that stories begin with imagination, curiosity, and a willingness to explore ideas. Research consistently shows that author talks can have a powerful impact on reader engagement, inspiring students to read more widely, connect with books on a deeper level, and see themselves as potential writers and storytellers.

Annaleise Byrd opened the event with her trademark wit and wonderfully droll storytelling. Despite technical issues with laptops undergoing a forced update mid presentation, Annaleise soon had students were laughing as she invited volunteers to the stage to re-enact one of her scenes, bringing her stories vividly to life.

Annaleise shared the inspiration behind her novels Losing the Plot and Down the Plot Hole, transporting students to the magical world of Grimmveldt, or “Grimm World”. Through stories of her visit there, she demonstrated how writers draw on experiences, observations, and a healthy dose of imagination to create rich fictional worlds. Her presentation reminded students that creativity often begins by asking “what if?” and having the courage to follow an idea wherever it leads.

Carla Salmon followed with an equally engaging presentation that showcased her infectious enthusiasm for creative writing. Taking students behind the scenes of her novels, Carla revealed how authors find inspiration in the world around them. She unpacked how places, people, and events from real life can spark fictional narratives, sharing fascinating examples from her own work. Students were particularly captivated by the story of the 3,000-tonne theft of maple syrup, a real-world event that helped inspire aspects of her storytelling. Carla’s session highlighted that writers are keen observers of life, constantly collecting ideas and transforming them into stories that entertain, challenge, and inspire readers.

Annaleise and our Library Team. All dressed up for Book Week Celebrations.

Together, both authors demonstrated that storytelling is much like a symphony. Ideas, experiences, emotions, imagination, and words come together to create something greater than the sum of their parts. Their presentations reinforced the important role stories play in helping young people understand themselves and the world around them while encouraging them to think creatively and embrace their own imaginations.

20260827_1749173021592242733342772 — Carla wrapping up the evening with a photo.

As our Book Week celebrations continue, A Sound of Storytelling has been a wonderful reminder of why author events matter. They connect students with the human stories behind books, nurture a love of reading, and inspire the next generation of creators. Judging by the laughter, excitement, and thoughtful questions from our students, both Annaleise Byrd and Carla Salmon struck a powerful chord in our own Symphony of Stories.

Thank you to Annaleise and Carla for sharing their time, expertise, and passion for storytelling. Their voices have added a memorable movement to our Book Week celebrations, and their stories will undoubtedly continue to resonate with students long after the event has ended.

Book review: Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke

Yesteryear made me ragey, and I mean that as a compliment.

At the centre of the novel is Nattie, a self-proclaimed “trad wife” influencer whose social media presence is built on an idyllic vision of domesticity. Online, she presents herself as a woman living naturally on her organic farm, homeschooling her children, cooking wholesome meals, and embracing traditional family values. She sells custom homewares, champions organic living, and suggests that modern society has lost its way. Nattie’s social media posts glorify the past, or as she calls it, yesteryear.

The reality is rather different. Nattie lives on a farm owned not by her, but by her trust-fund husband. The property is tied up entirely in his name through his wealthy father. Her carefully curated social media image conceals pesticides stored in the shed and kitchenware that falls well short of the wholesome aesthetic she promotes. She romanticises a lifestyle that exists largely because of privilege while dismissing anyone, especially the angry women, as she calls those that choose to live differently. Burke deftly skewers the contradictions at the heart of influencer culture. Nattie profits from selling an image rather than a reality, and the novel exposes how easily social media can transform performance into perceived authenticity.

However, the plot suddenly twists when Nattie seems to be suddenly transported back into the real yesteryear pioneer times. Suddenly, the traditional lifestyle she has spent years glamourising ceases to be content and becomes reality. There are no labour-saving devices, no social media sponsorships, and no carefully staged photographs. The work is relentless, exhausting, and often dangerous. More importantly, Nattie is faced with what “traditional values” actually meant for many pioneer women. She does not own property. She cannot vote. She has little legal protection if her husband becomes violent. Her reproductive choices are not her own. The freedoms and protections she has enjoyed in the modern world, while simultaneously criticising why women even need them, disappear overnight for her. There is another plot twist… but I will leave it for you to find. I had to re-read the last few chapters three times to fully absorb it!!

What makes Burke’s Yesteryear so effective is that it refuses to offer an easy caricature. Instead, it asks readers to confront the gulf between romanticised nostalgia and historical reality. The novel challenges the fantasy promoted by some tradwife influencers: that a return to an earlier era would somehow solve modern problems. Burke reminds us that while the past may appear charming through a filtered Instagram reel, it was often profoundly unequal, particularly for women.

Infuriating and surprisingly thought-provoking, Yesteryear is both an entertaining time-slip novel and a sharp critique of influencer culture. It left me frustrated with its protagonist, the trad wife movement, influencers in general, but also wrathful that so many women today lack equal rights. This book clearly captures the delusion that so many right wing people advocate fo4. Yesteryear is a clever and timely reminder that nostalgia is often easiest to sell to people who have never had to live it.